mutual heartache
by The-Despondent-Insomniac
Summary: they are both trapped in their own separate hell; he as he says vows to a woman who could never be the one he wants and her as she must watch the one she loves marry another, however both know the heartache they feel is entirely mutual. **PAIRE**
1. Chapter 1

She sits in the church pew, dazzling smile firmly fixed on her face even as tears stream down her cheeks. She lets the flow unchecked, keeping her eyes glued the whole time to the alter where peter stands solemnly reciting his vows; claiming he will love the woman next to him for life, that he will love no other. Heidi sits happily at her side watching her brother-in-law as he marries the perfect Petrelli bride, she glances at the girl next to her and her smile widens slightly seeing how happy her step-daughter seems to be at her uncle's marriage.

The priest announces the new Mr and Mrs Petrelli and for a moment Claire's smile falls, her chest constricts sharply and she allows her pain to flash through her eyes. Beginning his walk down the aisle with his new bride peter looks up and catches the look. As their eyes connect an identical agonised wave crosses his face before they both gather themselves and their perfect smiles once more assert themselves. Hiding the true faces of the two Petrelli's, both suffering in their mutual hell.

I don't own heroes or anything else i write.

Ok so this was going to be a one shot unrequited love paire thing but I'm thinking of extending it. What do you think??

Btw if i do add to this fic it will end up with an eventual paire ending soooooo... tell me what you think and if you want more.

Thanks to you all for reading this

Leave a review if you want more, even if its only a simple "Add more" or something

beccaxxxxx


	2. Chapter 2

The reception was unbearable for them both, they sat at the top table, smiled brightly at everyone- except each other- talked about anything with anyone, laughed cheerily at any joke attempt that was made and posed perfectly for every picture. They hated it. The smiles were slightly _too_ bright, the laughter _extra_ cheerful, the pictures _so_ perfect. And no one noticed it but themselves, no one saw the pain in both their eyes- they saw only the superficial smiles and pretty masks both wore and never once bothered to glance beneath to see the heartbreak that lay just beneath the surface.

Claire watched as she had done in the church as peter danced with his new wife twirling her around the dance floor and smiling while he did so. She watched as his perfect bride smiled her perfect smile and danced perfectly to the perfect wedding music. Wrenching her gaze away as peter sadly looked towards her Claire smilingly accepted yet another dance invitation from one of the many guests whom Angela deemed "very suitable young men, don't you think Claire?" And allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor once again.

she had been smiling, laughing and accepting dance invitations all night with her all too perfect mask firmly fixed to every move she made; after all a Petrelli must always smile even when sad, they must always look IT even when all they wanted to do was curl up in sweatpants and eat ice cream, they must always make believable polite conversation even when bored to tears and they must never let their perfect mask slip. The outside world must believe the perfect mask **was **the perfect truth, they must never suspect the lies it concealed but most of all scandal could never ever be allowed to touch the mask or tear it away. That would be against everything that was Petrelli and that would not be tolerated under any circumstances.

Dancing gracefully around the dance floor with her arms wrapped around Reuben... or Robert... whatever and listening to his incessant chatter about- of all things- _the fashion industry_ while he surreptitiously tried to feel her up Claire let her thoughts wander over past few years. She recalled finding out Nathan was her father, realising her hero, peter was her uncle and the disappointment which had followed the realisation. She remembered the long loving hugs they had shared, the chaste kisses to her forehead, the easy familiarity they had shared- the openness, how they had shared everything no matter how small. Claire smiled a tiny true smile as she thought back to how even when they barely knew each other peter could always tell if something was wrong even when no one else noticed and vice versa.

She remembered the first kiss they had shared- under the mistletoe at one of Angela's Christmas galas, it had been a simple peck on the lips- perfectly innocent- but they had both felt the sparks fly in the second the kiss had lasted, Claire's eyes had widened almost comically and peter had stared at her in shock; their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity, conversing silently and exchanging messages of such meaning they both felt the reverberations shiver through them as they stood there staring at each other. The tension was finally broken when peter gave a tiny reassuring smile and she answered it with a dazzling one of her own- peter could always make it better. No matter what; even a moment like this could be fixed with one of his perfect crooked smiles.

The months after Christmas had been _different_ for them both, both knew their relationship wasn't exactly conventional to begin with- the whole saving a random girl to save the word and finding out she was your niece. and being saved by a complete stranger from a crazed psychopath, developing a slight crush on him and then finding out he was your uncle kind of put a damper on any kind of _normal_ uncle/niece relationship- but now they had this new _thing_ between them, something neither 

of the was quite sure how to deal with. Eventually however it was Claire who decided to make the first move...

Glancing up sharply at the sound of peters wife's voice- that still sounded so _wrong_ to her- mentioning her name Claire looked around wildly searching for some means of escape but instead saw peter walking surely towards her. They had successfully avoided each other all night, even to the point of not talking and Claire had been thankful Cecily had not asked her to be a bridesmaid- that way she didn't have to dance with peter- yet here he was seemingly headed straight for her

"Please god, no" she pleaded quietly

_Don't do this to me peter_. _Please._

She saw him falter slightly as her thoughts reached him and a pained grimace cross his face before he continued his path towards her, sorrow and regret clear for her to see in his eyes but his smile still as surely in place as hers was despite the silent words and emotions passing between them.

Silently Holding out his hand upon reaching her peter nearly cried at the expression of unadulterated agony in Claire's eyes as she hesitantly placed her hand in his. Saying not a word to her current dance partner Claire allowed herself to be pulled into peter's arms and led slowly around the dance floor. She was extremely aware of peter's arms around her, his scent as it filled her mind, his gentle fingers lightly tracing loving circles on her waist as he held her as close as he dared under the circumstances. She was also very conscious of several eyes on them including Angela's icy ones.

"Angela is glaring at us" Claire breathed out, feeling the need to say something/anything if only for the sake of her Petrelli mask- people would think it odd if she and peter were not seen to be talking.

Peter chuckled humorously and muttered bitterly "ha! Well it's a good thing it was my _wife_ who suggested us dancing then isn't it. Apparently she's heard how _close _we are and thinks it's time i danced with you, i quote "come on peter, you've danced with all the bridesmaids and all the other women in your family. Why not Claire?" he adopted a whiny voice as he imitated his wife, the anger, pain and bitterness evident in his voice but only to Claire as they were still conversing in whispers.

Claire looked up at him sadly, allowing her smile to fall just for a moment to let him see every emotion she felt clearly written across her face. He already knew everything she was feeling because he shared her pain but to see it so barely laid out to him was more than he could bear

"God Claire, i can't do this!" he whispered desperately "How am i supposed to live the rest of my life like this, _without you_ pretending to be in love with a woman my mother forced me to marry, walking around all day with this" he gestured discreetly to the fake smile on his face "plastered to my face, pretending not to love you. I can't do it Claire, its killing me not to be with you. Tell me how I'm supposed to do it. Claire Please, please tell me.

Tears filled Claire's eyes as she looked at the man she loved more than her own life, more than anyone's life in fact and whispered in a broken voice with her dazzling smile back in place and a lone tear slipping down her cheek, "i don't know peter. I really don't know."- The song ended just as she whispered this- Peters hand automatically came up and brushed the tear from her face as he had done so many times before over the years and couldn't stop himself doing now. Claire let out a 

barely audible sob at the familiar contact while at the same time valiantly smiling around the room and curtseying slightly before quickly but discreetly- of course- hurrying from the room to cry herself to sleep upstairs in her old room of the Petrelli mansion.

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter dedicated to monkey-monkey-underpants07 for the amazing reviews. This one's for you, hope you like it, and sorry it took so long to get posted.

Three weeks had passed since peter's wedding and Claire had spent every day of it alternately crying, screaming, throwing things and trying to kill herself. - To no avail- she had avoided every family meeting she possibly could -especially the ones peter and his wife would be attending- and locked herself in her apartment not even leaving for food. She was currently trying to starve to death but it appeared she didn't need food as she hadn't eaten in 17 days and was still hatefully alive.

Claire knew she looked a mess and that Angela would have a fit if she saw her but she really couldn't care, the only thing she could think of was how much she missed peter; she missed having him beside her when she woke up and went to sleep- curled happily in his arms, she missed watching him as he wandered about the kitchen making breakfast, missed the feel of his arms around her as he kissed her with so much love her heart felt ready to burst from the chest, she missed the way he smiled every time he saw her but most of all she simply missed **him**; the way she could talk to him about anything and not have to worry what he would think, the way he always understood her, the way he instinctively knew what she was feeling and the way he always knew exactly what to do to make her feel better if she was sad.

He was her soulmate.

And she had lost him.

At this moment Claire hated Angela more than ever. She had always disliked the older woman, questioned her morals but now she could feel the hatred burning through her veins like acid, bubbling and boiling and twisting everything inside her into hideous unimaginable shapes. The evil old witch had ruined her life and something deep inside Claire screamed out at her to get revenge, to make her _dear old grandmamma _feel as much pain and heartbreak as she had inflicted upon her. Unfortunately Angela had no heart, or what she did have left of one was locked away in a steel dungeon and surrounded by years and years of lies, pretence, manipulation and a stubborn belief in her own twisted superiority, a belief that she could do whatever she wanted, step on whom so ever she wanted as long as she got her own way and it didn't matter who she hurt or shoved aside to get it. Even if that meant torturing two of her own flesh and blood and forcing them into the moulds she thought they should fit rather than the ones they had created themselves and been blissfully happy with.

Claire gave a wail of despair and flung herself down on her bed weeping as the realisation of her reality once again came crashing down on her.

Peter was gone.

Peter was married to someone else.

She was alone.

For eternity she would be alone.

And it was all Angela's fault.

_God_ she missed Peter.

**Peter's POV**

Christ, he missed Claire. It was torture not to be with her, his _wife_ was like a mini-Angela, already he would happily strangle her._ She_ was the exact opposite of Claire, where Claire was kind and always smiled for him _she_ was as cold as ice and could practically bore a hole in the wall her glare was so strong. Where Claire was blonde, she was dark, where Claire was small and like a warm ball of happy bouncing energy, _she_ was tall and statue like- frigid.

He had not had to endure the torture he knew sleeping with her would be yet. She had not pushed the issue and he had not brought it up. The night they had returned _home_ after the wedding, she had frostily kissed his cheek and headed for the master bedroom of the house Nathan had bought him as a wedding present and he- not knowing if she wanted him to follow and not caring if she did- had gone to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms as far across the house as he could.

The last three weeks had been totally unendurable, he had succumbed to tears more times than he wished to acknowledge and had discreetly flown to the empire state building late one night and casually thrown himself off of it. Unfortunately- as she always was- Claire was on his mind, invading his thoughts with her soft laugh, mischievous smile, warm hands, delicate smell, vibrant eyes and amazing body. so when, with a painful, bone shattering crack he finally hit the ground it was to find his body quickly knitting itself back together and far too soon he found himself back in that damned house with his cold-as-ice wife and praying that Claire was not suffering as much torment as he himself was although he knew that she probably was.

God he hated his mother at this moment.

He missed Claire.

He wanted her back in his arms, to be back together in _their _apartment, to have her in his arms and simply be able to breathe in her scent as they sat curled together on the couch laughing as they watched some movie or other. He wanted to be able to wake up in the mornings holding her securely to him with his face buried in her hair while hers was tucked into his neck and she woke up sleepily mumbling "i love you" every morning. He wanted to be able to walk up behind her as she cooked pancakes and wrap her in his arms, to have her turn towards him and kiss him happily then to splash him playfully with batter. He wanted to be able to chase her around the kitchen having a ridiculous food fight and then spent the next hour in the shower together laughing as they tried to get it all out of their hair.

What he didn't want was to be sitting here, at his mother's house having _a lovely family brunch_, and having to pretend to be even a fraction as happy now as he had been in a minute with Claire, listening to his mother and wife prattle on about something he couldn't care less about and trying to drown out Nathans incessant rambling to Heidi about his godforsaken senatorial campaign. All the time with that same stupid looking "I'm a newlywed, i don't care that i hate my wife and can't stand to be here" smile on his face. Claire would have seen straight through his smile, she could always read him like an open book just as he could her. to everyone else they were unreadable, closed off and impenetrable but to each other they were open, loving, and able to tell what the other was thinking with a single look eve across a crowded room.

_God _he missed Claire.


End file.
